He had come home—and his son was glad to see him.
Then suddenly he realized that his son did not know him, and the thought dashed his gladness to the ground in a violent reaction.
Ørlygur took him by the arm, and led him through to the courtyard. They had nearly reached the house when Alma came out, leaning on old Kata’s arm. Kata had seen him coming, and had brought her mistress out to meet him.
At sight of the two women, Guest the One-eyed all but fell. With an effort, Ørlygur led him to the big slab of stone that stood in the middle of the courtyard and could be used as a seat. The old man sank down on it, covering his face with his hands.
Ørlygur, alarmed at the old man’s evident illness, hurried into the house to call his father.
Kata was in high spirits, and talked volubly to her mistress.
“I knew he would come; it was to be. Not a doubt of it but God has brought him here, at the end of his wanderings. Truly God is Almighty.”
But the beggar sat on his stone, sobbing and murmuring brokenly:
“My God! my God!—this is my doing; I have put out the light of her soul. Those empty eyes! O God, a dreadful thing! And Thou hast willed it so, that I should see and understand there could be no forgiveness, for all my prayers no mercy.... Lord, Thy will be done!”
The two women came up to him; he raised his head and looked at them, with fear in his eyes.